


Thanks a Latte

by hangonsilvergirl



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15869892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hangonsilvergirl/pseuds/hangonsilvergirl
Summary: “What? That wasn’t flirting,” Anna said. “That was me actively trying to diffuse the situation. Using the magical powers I have calledcustomer service. In this case, in a subpar fashion.”“You wouldn’t talk toMr. Hobsonlike that,” Jo interjected, coming to join them behind the counter. “Using your wiles, and whatnot, I mean.”“My wiles are well out of commission,” Anna said, bemused. “Not that they worked well to begin with. Pretty sure God gave me faulty wiles. So if that was flirting, then it was definitely an accident. Or you’re hallucinating. Do you have a fever?”Another in a long-line of coffee shop tropes, and I'm not sorry.





	1. Better Late Than Never

**Author's Note:**

> I have always wanted to write a coffee shop AU, and my daughter is currently obsessed with Frozen. You can only watch it so many times before you start writing fanfiction. Pretty sure it's a law.

The morning sky in the autumn was an even-tempered mood, floating somewhere between twinkling night and sanguine sunshine. Orange rippled into purple, stars blinked themselves away, and the moon took leave of the sun and slowly went to bed. Autumn mornings were pockets of time that housed the fleeting vestiges of summer, the whispers of winter, with all the untapped potential of a thousand extraordinary days. Anna Arendal _coveted_  autumn mornings. She wanted them to wrap themselves around her like wholesome, picturesque, memories-in-progress; to breathe them in deeply and let them linger in her heart.  
  
So much as she _wanted_ them to envelop her, though (or, rather, romanticized the idea of doing so), Anna was _not_ a morning person. Instead of waking up _on time_ and strolling pleasantly for 20 minutes through a poem on her way to work, Anna instead streaked through her route every morning like the roadrunner, exclaiming “Shit! Shit! Shit!” thickly between bites of pop-tart, perpetually on the cusp of late. Anna’s older sister, Elsa, would watch her zoom out of their apartment with an unsurprised sigh, shaking her head in remembrance of the previous evening’s dubious proclamations; that Anna was _definitely_ going to get up on her first alarm _this time_. “I told you so!” Elsa would call after her. “I always tell you so!”  
  
Anna consistently made it to the cafe door with about three minutes to spare. She could tell how close or how far from the hour she was by the size of the cigarettes the other (waiting) baristas would put out on the heels of their shoes once they saw her rounding the corner. They would brush off her harried mantra of “Sorry! Sorry!” (most times even before she even had a chance to say it) telling her to calm it down as she jammed her key into the door with panic and purpose.  
  
Anna had been working at this particular Starbucks for two years now, running full-time Monday to Friday morning shifts the whole go. The eleventh-hour trend had always been the same. Every periodic employee review made note of commitments to getting up earlier and being at the door ahead of her team; Anna just never quite got there. That said, no one ran a shift like Anna. No one built up atmosphere like Anna. No one lifted people up like Anna could, customers and coworkers alike. She could diffuse a bad situation with a smile, or could intimate perspectives to spin your world around. Anna was bright, bubbly, hard-working, and _contagious_. Every barista at the Harbor Market store would proclaim her their best supervisor in a heartbeat; hell, most of the other supervisors would say the same. If Anna’s biggest vice--excluding her shit taste in men, of course--was that she liked to sleep, then _whatever_. What did it matter? There were more important things.  
  
Besides all of that, _no one_ knew the regulars like Anna did. She knew their names, their spouses names, their kids names; knew where they worked or what their studied. There was never a misstep between latte and macchiato; she got orders perfect every time. More than one of them had invited Anna to family barbeques and major life events like weddings and baby showers. If the big-wigs booted Anna out of Harbor Market for perpetual near-tardiness, half of the city would _riot_.  
  
So she showed up _just_ on time, every day, and no one cared.  
  
Well. Until one day, naturally, when she showed up late… and someone _did_.  
  
It was mid-September. School was back in session. The university campus was teaming with new and returning students. Most of the teenage regulars had gone back to haunting the cafe in the afternoons, trading in matcha frappuccinos for edgy doppio espressos. The pumpkin spice latte had already made it’s triumphant return, and flooded out the door in droves, dotting the boardwalk to corporate satisfaction. Brisk breezes danced off of the ocean, causing chunky scarves to be tugged closer to windswept cheeks, and more people to say, “ _Ooh_ , we should grab a Starbucks!” Leaves were turning from green to rustic hues,  reds, golds, and yellows falling from the trees. The air tangoed between crisp and cold, then damp and earthy. From the heat and sweat of a sweltering summer, autumn felt like both a breaking point and a new beginning, for which Anna could not find _quite_ the right words. Elsa was the writer; that was more her forte. Still, that inbetween feeling invigorated Anna somehow; all the tantalizing possibilities laid out in autumn days, and regardless of whether or not she managed to start them off with a dreamy, postcard-ish stroll.  
  
(She hadn’t managed to yet.)  
  
It was a Tuesday morning, the second to last one of the month, and Anna was tearing headlong down the cobbled waterfront like she was being chased by zombies. Her denim skirt billowed around black three-quarter leggings, red pigtail braids flying behind her, mismatched pairs of socks (one floral, one patterned Wonder Woman) and of ankle-high converse (one purple, one blue) on her feet. Capping it all off was a hot pink cape poncho, which also billowed. She was quite the sight as she flew, and while familiar to many of those already out and about, plenty of startled pedestrians stopped mid-step, gawking as she passed them by.  
  
Anna arrived at the cafe door on what she was sure was the later side of her three minutes, panting and panicking as per the morning standard. Jo and Liam were already there, of course, but they looked antsy, and their usually chipper morning greetings were dampened and rushed. “Um, pushing it a bit there this morning, Anna,” Jo said, glancing over her shoulder as Anna unlocked the door. She held it open for them. Jo disengaged the alarm while Liam collected the morning paper bundles from the sidewalk, depositing them on the rack appropriately once he was inside. He then beelined behind the counter and into the storeroom, and was back out jacketless and donning his apron in record time (seriously, Anna could swear she barely blinked). He started to make coffee.  
  
All of this happened before Anna managed a “Wait, what?” in reaction to Jo’s comment. Anna shut the door behind them, bolted it, turned on the lights, and then looked at her watch. She grimaced. Then she shook her wrist as though hoping perhaps her watch was actually a magic 8 ball, begging the answer to change. It didn’t, though seemed to tick more menacingly. “Oh, _shit_ ,” Anna said, her face falling. Then she launched herself into opening prep overdrive, Jo following in her wake.  
  
It was actually three minutes _after_ the hour.  
  
Now, three minutes might not seem like a lot, but _before_ the hour, three minutes was enough to get the drip coffee going, the food case filled, and the oven on. It was also usually enough time to check that everything had been stocked by the closing shift the night before; particularly to confirm that there were enough sandwiches and milk jugs in the fridges. If you were borderline _crazy_ efficient in a pinch (like Anna), three minutes was also enough time to open the safe, count the float, and get the cash register setup. All that before the hour, with the door unlocked and opened right on time? Totally doable. Today they were already past on-time. It _was_ Tuesday, though, so their first regulars wouldn’t be there for another six minutes--Anna glanced at her watch again--and they only ever wanted drip. Mr. Hobson used his credit card, while Amy paid with her Starbucks card. They’d be alright. They had time. They might have been in real trouble if it were Friday, but it was hardly ever that anyone showed up before Mr. Hobson on a Tuesday.  
  
Anna was ducking and weaving between a manic Liam and Jo, all three of them racing to cram all of their necessary tasks into as few minutes as possible. Liam had the coffee going. Jo was stuffing muffins into the food case. Anna checked the sandwiches--there were probably not enough for the whole day, but there were definitely enough for right now. Liam audibly swore when he opened the bar fridges; the close team hadn’t refilled the milk. “They didn’t restock the cups and lids either, Anna,” he said in annoyance, rushing past her. “Did they do _anything_ last night, or just stand around with their thumbs up their butts?”  
  
“Nice word picture,” Anna commented with a bit of a forced laugh, overviewing her shift checklist. She glanced around the cafe itself to make sure that at the very least the close crew had done a decent cleanup job. Thankfully the garbages didn’t appear to be full, and the tables and floors looked like a cloth or mop might’ve touched them recently. Presentable was acceptable, and a lack of milk they could manage.  
  
That’s when Anna looked at the door and realized that there was someone waiting outside of it.  
  
“Aw...fu-- _dgeos_ ,” she said, catching herself. Whoever it was (for it was definitely not a regular) had his back to the door. She turned and sprinted back to the office to open the safe and pull out the cash drawer, flinging her cape onto the desk en route. Once she started counting she did it too fast-- _twice_ \--and lost her place. Finally settled, she tore back to the front and started getting the register going. She glanced at the door. Mr-Ready-And-Waiting had turned around, looked _really_ unimpressed, and was knocking on the glass.  
  
“Should I let him in?” Jo asked dubiously. She was screwing the tops on the filled creamer canisters. “He looks _pissed_. He was waiting around the corner from us before you even got here, Anna.” She bit her lip. “Um. Are we ready?”  
  
“Ready enough,” Anna answered, shoving the cash in the register drawer and shutting it. “Ready as we’re ever gonna be. _Ugh_ ,” she finished, leaning against the counter and rubbing her hands into her eyes.  Jo made her way toward the door, dropping the creamers on the condiment station as she went. Anna glanced at her watch again. It was now eight minutes after the hour.  
  
So much for efficiency in a panic.  
  
“Tomorrow I’m setting my alarm for 3am,” Anna said regretfully. “Or I’m going to get my sister to come dump cold water on my head.”  
  
Liam laughed, and handed her her apron. “Yeah, right,” he said.  
  
The door was unlocked and held open, and Mr-Ready-And-Waiting walked in. He didn’t give Jo a second look. He was tall, broad, and somewhat imposing, and perhaps felt especially so to Anna, who was only 5’4”. This guy was well over six feet tall. He had a mop of blonde hair sticking out from under a toque that was patterned with Christmas reindeer (and people got uppity about the PSL in September!). He looked rumpled, like maybe he had slept in his jeans and half-buttoned flannel shirt. Overtop of all that he had a North Face hoodie that looked like it needed a wash, and was carrying a laptop bag that was covered in buttons. One on the strap across his chest read: ‘You probably think a clitoris is a dinosaur.’  
  
Anna made a conscious effort _not_ to read the rest of his eclectic buttons, and braced herself for a deescalation.  
  
“Pretty sure the sign on the door says you open at 7am,” he said irritably, approaching the counter, eyes on Anna.  
  
“Sorry about that!” she replied cheerfully. “My fault. I overslept this morning. Got here fast as I could manage, though. Happens to the best of us!”  
  
“Doesn’t happen to me,” he said, looking unsympathetic. “Not to mention your crew here were talking about how you’re never on time while they were waiting for you. That your standard?”  
  
Anna’s smile faltered, and her face flushed. Jo and Liam quickly turned away from her, not meeting her eyes, focusing all their attentions on their restock efforts. It stung a bit to hear (Anna never liked the idea of being _gossiped_ about), but it wasn’t as though they were _wrong_. Anna inhaled and exhaled through her nostrils in an attempt to recompose herself. “That so? Well. I’ll just have to try harder next time.” She smiled brightly at him again.  
  
The man sort of huffed, making a sound that was equal parts beguiled and peeved. Anna thought that he looked a _little_ softer around the edges all the same, but he didn’t smile back at her. “Right,” he said.  
  
“Righty-o,” Anna answered, and grinned. “So. Stranger! Can’t say I’ve seen you in here before. I _feel_ like I’d remember you, so--”  
  
“Why?” He cut her off, an eyebrow raised.  
  
“Why what?” she asked, confused.  
  
“Why do you feel like you’d remember me? What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“Oh!” Anna blinked. “I’m not… you know, trying to _imply_ something. I just. I mean. You’re, um. Really…” Anna scrunched up her face, looking up at him. What was she trying to say? “Uh. Tall?”  
  
“Uh _huh_ ,” he replied, the second eyebrow joining the other, both disappearing under his shaggy, blonde bangs. “And you’re really short. Doesn’t anyone who’s not in kinderstart seem tall to you?”  
  
Anna flushed again. She tried to ignore a stifled laugh that came from Liam in the corner, who was carefully refilling the jar of cup-stoppers one-at-a-time so that he wouldn’t have to wade into the middle of Anna’s customer interaction. Jo was in the cafe overfilling napkin holders, her sheet of dark hair hiding her face, and what Anna was sure was silent laughter (at least judging by her shaking shoulders).  
  
Anna cleared her throat, embarrassed. “At any rate,” she plowed on, because she didn’t know what else to say: “I don’t know you from Adam, so…”  
  
“Who’s Adam?” he asked, cutting her off again.  
  
“What?” Anna was starting to feel like a broken record. “I don’t know. It’s like, a saying. Like. I don’t know you from the bible dude who lived in the Garden of Eden. First man. You know. _Adam_.”  
  
“What if my name _was_ Adam?”  
  
“If that’s actually the case, then it’s still not the strangest part of this conversation,” she answered honestly, now genuine amusement colouring her features. “ _Is_ your name Adam?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Okay, then. So we’ve established that you’re tall, and that you’re Not Adam. _Do_ you have a name?”  
  
“I think that generally people are given one when they’re born.” A smirk was creeping onto his face.  
  
Anna laughed. “Okay, okay. So you’re tall, you’re Not Adam, and presumably you were once a baby who was given a name?”  
  
“Presumably,” he replied, eyes dancing now. “But, as stated and reiterated, that name was _not_ Adam.”  
  
“Let me try this again,” Anna said. “ _What_ is your name?”  
  
“Kris.”  
  
“Good morning, Kris!” Anna exclaimed, and she grabbed a cup and a sharpie. “What are you drinking this morning?”  
  
“Uh.” Kris looked taken aback, like he had momentarily forgotten where he was and why he’d come there.  
  
“Coffee? Latte? Tea? Or did you just stop by for titillating conversation? I mean, I’m sure I could keep stuffing my foot in my mouth, but maybe we should let this trainwreck peter out.”  
  
“That’s a pretty heavy mix of a metaphors.”  
  
“Call it nuance.”  
  
Kris laughed. “Ah. Sure,” he said. He was _definitely_ smiling now. “Um. Pike Place?”  
  
“You bet. Room for cream?”  
  
“No, thanks.”  
  
Anna wrote ‘Not Adam’ on his cup with a smiley face, then filled it, setting it on the counter in front of him.  
  
He looked down at it, then back at her, not picking it up. He reached for his wallet. “Bit presumptuous,” he said, after a beat.  
  
“How’s that?”  
  
“You didn’t ask what size I wanted. Just filled a grande.”  
  
“That’s ‘cause it’s on the house. For my being late. And awkward.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Sure!” Anna replied cheerfully. “Least I could do. Ish. I could’ve just gotten to work on time, I guess, but as I don’t have a time machine, I can’t go back in time to kick my own butt so that I could be here to confirm your cup-size preference and then charge you appropriately. Wow, I need to stop talking. Anyway. Free coffee!”  
  
Kris tucked his wallet back into his pants, and then picked up his cup. “Ah. Well. Thanks, then.”  
  
“No problem,” Anna said. “I hope the rest of your day is free of weird short-girls with questionable conversational skills.”  
  
He laughed again. “Thanks.” He gestured to Jo and Liam. “I think I heard these two calling you… Anna?”  
  
“That’s me!”  
  
“Thanks again, Anna.”  
  
There was an awkward pause where Anna and Kris sort of surveyed each other, then Kris nodded, disengaged, and headed toward the door. He stopped at the condiment station for a lid and a sleeve, and then he left.  
  
As soon as the door shut behind him, Anna exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.  
  
“What. The. Actual. Eff.” Liam said. “I don’t know how you do that, Anna, seriously. One minute he looked like he wanted to rip you a new one, next thing he knows he’s _flirting_ with you.”  
  
“What? That wasn’t flirting,” Anna said. “That was me actively trying to diffuse the situation. Using the magical powers I have called _customer service_. In this case, in a subpar fashion.”  
  
“You wouldn’t talk to _Mr. Hobson_ like that,” Jo interjected, coming to join them behind the counter. “Using your wiles, and whatnot, I mean.”  
  
“My wiles are well out of commission,” Anna said, bemused. “Not that they worked well to begin with. Pretty sure God gave me faulty wiles. So if that was flirting, then it was definitely an accident. Or you’re hallucinating. Do you have a fever?”  
  
“If she has a fever, then so do I, and that was a joint fever dream, because it was most absolutely, inarguably, flirting,” Liam said, crossing his arms.  
  
“And _Kris_ was _into it_ ,” Jo said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. "He was kinda cute, hey?"  
  
“Put those away before you hurt yourself,” Anna said, unimpressed.  
  
Jo shrugged, but smiled broadly. “Suit yourself,” she said.  
  
Anna rolled her eyes. “I’m going to go in the back to finish the safe count, then I’m going to pull more sandwiches,” she said, brushing past them. “Behave, please. No more suppositions about my wiles. Or imaginary flirting.”  
  
“I make no promises,” Liam replied, with a salute.  
  
Anna made the ‘I’m watching you’ motion, then disappeared into the back.  
  
After a beat, Jo said to Liam, “Bets on that dude coming back tomorrow?”  
  
Liam gave her an easy grin. “He’ll be here every day for the rest of the week. _Guaranteed_.”


	2. All According to Plan

Wednesday Morning  
  
“Good Morning, Kris!”  
  
“Uh. Hi.”  
  
“You look shell-shocked. Late night?”  
  
“No. No more than usual anyhow. Just surprised that it’s 7am on the nose and you’re already here. Though I guess I shouldn’t be assuming precedents after one visit.”  
  
“Well if the glove fits, I mean… I’m only here and not in a tizzy because I set about 15 alarms for myself last night, and I strategically hid them all around my room. They all went off this morning within a minute of each other. It was like some sort of alarm inception, or like… the worst scavenger hunt of my life? The worst, regardless. But here I am!”  
  
“ _Wow_. I don’t know whether to be impressed by that, or slightly concerned. Did you have 15 alarm clocks just lying around to repurpose, or did you actually have to go out and buy them?”  
  
“Eh, I had a few--not my first rodeo--but I had to go buy some more. Just went to Goodwill though.”  
  
“Smart.”  
  
“I thought so. At any rate, I was here five minutes before the hour instead of three minutes after, so I did something right? Who knows, if I keep this up I might even end up here when I’m supposed to be!”  
  
“I hope that that wasn’t to spite me for being a coffee-deprived grump yesterday.”  
  
“That depends. Did you come here smack at seven today hoping that I wouldn’t be on time, so that you could swing another free coffee?”  
  
“Ha. No.”  
  
“Then absolutely, definitely _not_. And, for the record, that is not the grumpiest coffee deprivation I’ve ever seen. You were tame by comparison to some of the horrors of my past barista-ing. I’ve seen some things, friend. You don’t even _want_  to know.”  
  
“Once I saw at guy at the post office screaming a string of… _very_  creative profanities at the clerk because he was out of Star Trek stamps. I can’t only image how irate some people get about their coffee.”  
  
“Speaking of which, Pike Place with no room, right? What size would you prefer? I don’t want to be _presumptuous_.”  
  
“Aha. Grande is. Yeah, it’s fine.”  
  
“Perfect. That’ll be $2.10, please. ...Thanks!”  
  
“Thanks, Anna.”  
  
“My pleasure. Have a great rest of your day!”  
  
“Yeah. You too.”  
  
***

Thursday Morning  
  
“We meet again!”  
  
“Ha, hey, yeah. Morning, Anna.”  
  
“Happy to report that I was seven minutes before the hour today. Earliest I’ve made it to work in the two years I’ve been here. Pretty sure I’ve got everyone else I work with completely and utterly weirded out.”  
  
“You sound pleased.”  
  
“Naturally. I only had to do a light jog to get here this morning too, rather than Sonic-the-Hedgehogging my way down the waterfront.”  
  
“I would pay good money to see anyone’s legs spin that fast. Also-- that’s not a verb I’ve heard before.”  
  
“Well if you’re going to be making us a regular morning pit stop on weekdays, brace yourself; I’m full of uncanny and unexpected verbs.”  
  
“Good to know. And I probably will. Make you… _you guys_ a regular stop. You’re on my way, and since my coffee maker is broken, this is the easiest solution. I don’t really feel like buying a new one.”  
  
“Awesome! Oh, I mean, not that you’re coffee maker is broken, that sucks, but awesome that you’ll be a regular. We’ve got a pretty tight knit community around here, it’s always nice to add a new person.”  
  
“Uh. Cool. Though that sounds a little... _ominous_.”  
  
“Well I’m not trying to indoctrinate you into a Starbucks-cult or anything… Though that doesn’t sound all that far-fetched. You think there are coffee-cults out there? There must be.”  
  
“I would be harder-pressed to believe that there _aren’t_  coffee cults in the world. But all I meant was… Well. What do you mean, community?”  
  
“Oh! Just the Harbor Market area. From about… Living Rock Valley to Castle Boulevard? It’s probably the only section of Earth encompassing 10 city blocks that only has one Starbucks to share between it. The next closest one is at the mall. So we’ve got a steady stream of regular customers. Plus we’re really well-positioned for the university, and the trades college, and then there’s the Fjord buildings… there’s tons of businesses in there, and I mean, everyone loves the waterfront here, so. You know, tourists. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we’re a hub? And that there’s definitely,  _absolutely_  six degrees of Kevin Bacon between everyone.”  
  
“Six degrees of… what?”  
  
“Kevin Bacon? Well it’s the belief that everyone is no more that six degrees--like friend links, or acquaintance links, or whatever--apart. And the joke I guess is that famous people are all six degrees removed in their connection to Kevin Bacon.”  
  
“Uh.”  
  
“Okay, I mean, um… Pick a celebrity. Any celebrity.”  
  
“Uh.”  
  
“ _C’mon_. You can do it. I believe in you!”  
  
“Um. Okay. Uh. I don’t really know… I mean, I guess… Uh. One of the Kardashians?”  
  
“ _Interesting_  choice. Which one?”  
  
“I don’t. I don’t know their names?”  
  
“Ha, okay, so let’s say Kim for the sake of argument.”  
  
“Sure?”  
  
“Right, so… Kim was just in Ocean’s Eight.”  
  
“She was?”  
  
“Yeah. And who else was in that… Um. Dakota Fanning! And Dakota Fanning was in Trapped with Kevin Bacon. So that’s… two degrees of separation.”  
  
“...”  
  
“You look alarmed.”  
  
“So then… there are six degrees of separation between me and literally anyone else? Even Kevin Bacon?”  
  
“I don’t know about Kevin Bacon, we might have to think really hard to find that connection. But I bet that there are six degrees or less between you and me. I mean other than the fact that you’re buying coffee from me.”  
  
“Um. Okay. How do… we figure that out?”  
  
“You just… start somewhere. Easy.”  
  
“Like...?”  
  
“Like... Are you working or in school?”  
  
“Um. School?”  
  
“Where? The university, or the college?”  
  
“College.”  
  
“And what are you taking?”  
  
“Mountaineering.”  
  
“Whoa, really?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“That’s _awesome_!”  
  
“Um. Thanks.”  
  
“Okay, okay, so you had to take First Aid for that, yeah?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Where to?”  
  
“Um. Last one I did was a course at the high school.”  
  
“Foothill High School?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Cool, and who taught the course?”  
  
“Uh. I think his name was Oaken?”  
  
“Aha! And he owns Wandering Oaken’s Bar and Grill, which is where my first job out of high school was! I was a terrible hostess, but he was a great boss.”  
  
“... _Huh_.”  
  
“So that’s two degrees. Me to Oaken, and Oaken to you.”  
  
“That’s… kind of crazy.”  
  
“I know, right? It’s like my favorite game to play as an icebreaker.”  
  
“... I might steal that for study groups.”  
  
“Do you need to pack additional ice-breakers? I would think your buttons lend to conversation.”  
  
“Huh? Oh, these? I mean. Sometimes. Mostly people standing in lines behind me just laugh to themselves. They don’t really engage me about them.”  
  
“What! With classics like ‘ _The Only Weapons I Need Are My Finger Guns_ ’ or ‘ _Take My Advice, I’m Not Using It_ ’ on display? Opportunities lost! That’s just _sad_.”  
  
“Well I don’t wear them to instigate conversations with strangers.”  
  
“Then why wear them?”  
  
“Because… I like them? ... I forget what led us here, conversation-wise.”  
  
“Oh! The Harbour Market community here, I think. It’s pretty close-knit, and there’s… yeah, six degrees or less between everyone. So. If you’re going to be a regular here, you’re going to make friends.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Don’t sound so excited, I wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”  
  
“I didn’t mean it like… I’m just not. You know. Super social.”  
  
“Well. Maybe they’ll like your buttons. At any rate, I hope that doesn’t put you off. Least until you replace your coffee maker.  … Is that _your_  phone singing the Ghostbusters theme song?”  
  
“What? Oh, yeah.  … Shit! Shit, I have to go. I’m late. That’s… I’m late for class. God, we’ve been talking for 20 minutes. How has no one else come to this counter yet?”  
  
“Thursdays are slow. Here ya go! $2.10, please.”  
  
“Thanks, Anna. Catch you next time.”  
  
“You bet! Have a good one. Sorry to have kept you!”  
  
“Don’t be.  See ya.”  
  
***

Friday Morning  
  
“Oh, hello! Wasn’t sure I’d see you this morning after making you late yesterday. I hope you didn’t catch too much flack?”  
  
“Morning-- Nah, it was fine.”  
  
“Aw, I’m glad. I was a little worried for a bit there.  ...Um. So! Coffee?”  
  
“Uh. Yeah. Please.”  
  
“Great. So. You’d probably be impressed to know I was here ten minutes before the hour today. Or I mean. Maybe not. I’m bragging like it’s substantial that I’ve been on-time-ish for three days in a row, but, like. It’s got my older sister totally on edge.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“Yeah. She says she hasn’t seen me get up on time for anything but Christmas presents in my entire life. She also says that it’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.”  
  
“... Disconcerting?”  
  
“RIGHT. That’s what I said, but Elsa said that it’s not that it’s disconcerting, just sort of… _discombobulating_.”  
  
“... Isn’t discombobulating just a synonym for disconcerting?”  
  
“You know, I thought so, but she’s a writer and assigns weird meanings to words for the frame of mind they set her in. Situational weirdness. Like... when you smell something and you’re deposited back into a vivid memory? Whenever I smell cinnamon--you know, like that sharp, artificial cinnamon smell?--I hear ‘Hey there Delilah’ in my brain, and it’s like I’m back in 2005 in my room with a stinky hamster and a stolen air freshener, rocking it out on my OG iPod.”  
  
“I have a lot of questions about what you just described.”  
  
“I can’t have dated myself too much, I’ve counted at least 5 Pog buttons on your bag.”  
  
“I feel like you have a vested interest in my buttons.”  
  
“I have a vested interest in a lot of things, honestly. I’m like that dog in Up, turning my head for every squirrel I hear, real or imaginary.”  
  
“... How much espresso have you had this morning?”  
  
“Not nearly enough.”  
  
“Did you want to charge me for my coffee?”  
  
“Oh! Yes. Please. $2.10. Please. Again.”  
  
“Feel like I could’ve dine and dashed that one with no repercussions.”  
  
“You know? Probably. Maybe I _should_  have some more espresso.”  
  
“You do you. Isn’t that what the young folk say nowadays?”  
  
“Ah. Specifically I think that it’s _hashtag_  you do you.”  
  
“Right, sorry. What was I thinking?”  
  
“Don’t worry, Kris; I still think that you’re _on fleek_. _Hashtag_  Not Adam.”  
  
“Thanks? I think?”  
  
“Anytime, _bro_ , anytime.”  
  
“Ha. Uh. I should probably get going? Looks like you’ve got a crowd coming your way.”  
  
“Ooh, yeah, that’s the university invasion. They’re all descending in their pajamas before their 8am class. Pretty sure it’s all people in the same class, but I can’t quite figure out if it’s a class about how _awesome_  Disney movies are, or about how they’re all thinly veiled metaphors for misogyny, or if the class is about something completely different and they’re all just obsessed with Disney. Either way, they make for colourful Fridays.”  
  
“Oh, God. Well. Good luck?”  
  
“Thanks, Kris. Have a good weekend.”  
  
“... Yes. Yeah. You too, Anna. See ya.”  
  
“Bye!”  
  
***  


You know that thing that happens? That frequency illusion that takes place in your life when you learn something or casually notice something, and then suddenly BOOM, it’s everywhere you look? Anna had learned from Jeopardy that there was a name for it: The-Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon. Anna--who had never half-assed an interest in anything in her life--always felt like these random yet seemingly meaningful coincidences were signs from the universe of things that merited her attention, in one way or another, and for extended periods of time. Take last winter for example: Anna had really, really wanted a cat, but couldn’t convince Elsa that getting a cat was a good idea. She was seeing cats _everywhere_ , though--in magazines, in books, on television, on the street--the cat-sightings were getting to a point of threatening her sanity, like she was going to be become the crazy cat lady without actually owning any cats. Then one day it was like  a lightbulb went off. She marched herself down to the local shelter and started volunteering.  
  
Take now, _right now_ , for two more examples: One was Kris’ buttons, and the other was Kris himself.  
  
For the former it felt like Anna had found buttons in every business that she had ventured into since Tuesday. It didn’t even matter what _type_  of business; whether she was at the grocery store (‘Ask us about our deli meat deals!’), the mall (every store there seemed to have a button section she hadn’t realized existed; she spent a solid hour combing through a miscellaneous bin at the Hot Topic), the insurance place (‘Ask me about life insurance!’), McDonald’s (‘Supersize It!”)... anywhere and everywhere, Anna was seeing _buttons_. Buttons, buttons, _buttons_. She even _bought_  herself three buttons--’ _Danger: Red Head_ ’, ‘s _mall but feisty_ ’, and ‘ _but first: COFFEE_ ’ (all of which she kept far and away from her work clothes)--but still the button-sightings continued. Should she buy a button maker off of Amazon, then make her own buttons and sell them on Etsy? Should she just buy a messenger bag of her own, then go back to probably Hot Topic and buy a million more buttons? Should she steal Kris’ bag and loot _his_ buttons? Should she start offering to buy buttons off of strangers, to appease some sort of rogue button-God who was clearly not being subtle with her about _BUTTONS_?  
  
So much worse still than the buttons was Kris himself.  
  
Not literally. Literally he was absolutely _not_  the worst. Literally, he seemed like a pretty okay guy; cute, even (in a raffish, mountain man, nose-that-grew-on-you, gentle giant kind-of-way). It was just that Anna was running into him _everywhere_. He didn’t seem to be intentionally putting himself in her path, though, and so Anna felt like a stalker despite the fact that she was in no way actively tracking him down, or seeking him out. She just seemed to turn corners and find him, and then caught herself backing out and away from wherever it was so that he didn’t see her, so that he wouldn’t actually start thinking that she _was_  a stalker. Despite the fact that she was chummy with a lot of the Harbor Market regulars, seeing and engaging with them outside of the cafe was still kind of like seeing your teachers outside of school; like the world was a bit bungled and _wrong_. She’d never seen any customer out and about in reality as much as she was seeing Kris though, and it had only been  _four days_  since he first walked into the store. There were regulars that had been her regulars for the entirely of the two-years she'd worked there! It was nonsense!  
  
On Tuesday after work she saw him on the waterfront, lazing under a tree with his reindeer hat over his eyes.  
  
On Wednesday she saw him twice; once as she passed by the bank on her way home, using the ATM, and then again in the evening, out with Elsa for dinner, where he was drinking at the bar of the same restaurant they were at.  
  
On Thursday she saw him twice _again_. First was on the waterfront, lazing under the same tree again. Later, out for a walk with Elsa, she made her sister duck behind _the same tree_  as Kris passed by walking a very large dog.  
  
_“Is there a reason we’re hiding from this guy?” Elsa had asked, crouching beside Anna and watching Kris with interest. “Did you have a bad date with him or something?”  
  
__“What? Oh_  God _, no. When was the last time I dated anyone? No, this guy is a new regular and I just keep seeing him_  everywhere _. I don’t want him to think I’m a stalker. I gave him the ‘Harbor Market is a small area’ speech today, but I don’t want to spook him by suddenly appearing on every corner like some sort of apparating panhandler.”  
  
__Elsa had laughed at this. “Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”  
  
__“Yeah,” Anna had replied, stepping out from behind the tree once Kris was safely past the ice cream parlour, then helping Elsa up. “It’s saying: Don’t take up a career in professional stalking, you’ll be shit at it.”  
  
“Was that something you were considering? I mean, he’s cute, I guess, but I don’t think he’s worth going to jail over.”_  
  
_“Oh shush,” Anna had shot her sister a dirty look. Elsa had giggled. “You and everybody at work. I’m not into him. I’ve sworn off men, remember? He’s just… in my orbit right now, I guess.”  
  
"Right.”  
  
_ On Friday, Anna saw Kris outside of the cafe on **four**  separate occasions. First was after work, under that now infamous tree, taking what she’d decided must be his regular afternoon nap. The second was soon after, at the grocery store, where he seemed to be debating intently between two cantaloupes. The _third_  run-in was a near miss, as she almost ran headlong into him at the _library_. She’d been carrying a stack of volumes of Ouran High School Host Club to check-out, and there he was, engrossed with an advertisement on the community board for a Hearthstone club that ran every Thursday. Anna had looked up _just_  before she’d walked bodily into him, and then had managed to duck behind a shelf in the self-help section without him noticing. She’d hid there with her manga for 10 minutes before Kris finally left the library.  
  
The last pseudo-encounter Anna had had with Kris on Friday was when she finally went home for the evening. She had unlocked the outer door to her and Elsa’s building, stepped inside, turned around to close the door, and then: There he was, walking by with his dog.  
  
_Jesus_ , Anna had thought to herself, heart pounding. He hadn’t noticed her. After he was past, she had leaned out on the stoop, watching him go. Did he have an identical twin? Is that why she seemed to see him everywhere? Otherwise: “What the shit _are_ you trying to tell me, universe?” she had asked quietly, out loud. While pondering this, Kris had disappeared over the crest of the hill, and out of sight.  
  
***  


Saturday morning found Anna at the breakfast table, distractedly spooning cocoa puffs into her mouth as she started into space.  
  
“Yoo hoo,” Elsa said, waving a hand in front of Anna’s face. “Earth to Anna?”  
  
“Wut?”  
  
“There’s milk dribbling down your chin,” Elsa said. “Where’d you go? I was talking at you for like, five minutes before I realized that you’d gone dopey.”  
  
“I saw Kris again last night.”  
  
“Who?”  
  
“The regular we hid from behind that tree on the boardwalk. Actually, I saw him four times yesterday. But last night he walked right in front of our building with his dog.”  
  
Elsa shrugged, buttering toast. “So?”  
  
“I keep seeing him everywhere. Why?”  
  
“Because he lives in the same area as we do? You should just say hi to him when you spot him somewhere again. The sightings will probably ease once you do that. Or at the very least your anxiety about him seeing you might.”  
  
Anna frowned. “He’s going to think I’m stalking him.”  
  
“Why? Because you see him walking his dog at night when you’re coming home? People walk their dogs all the time, Anna. He probably just lives nearby.”  
  
“I guess.”  
  
Elsa rolled her eyes. “As opposed to what... The mystical, magical forces of the universe? You know I was joking when I said that.”  
  
Anna pouted at her sister.  
  
Elsa sat at the table beside Anna with her toast and a cup of coffee. “For the sake of argument, say the universe _is_  wielding its universe-magic. What’s it trying to tell you, plunking this guy in front of you?”  
  
“I dunno! If I knew I wouldn’t be sitting here in stupor, making milk puddles on the table.”  
  
“You must have some _thoughts_  about it,” Elsa prodded. “You usually do. About all things.”  
  
Anna sighed heavily. “Yeah but they’re all irrelevant because the universe has also been _very_  clear about what sort of jerkwads men can be.”  
  
“ _Hans_ was a jerkwad, Anna. Is a jerkwad. A _raging_ one. But just because some guys are the absolute _worst_  doesn’t mean they all are. Maybe this Kris guy is your Prince Charming, but you’ll never find out if you don’t get back out there. Give it a shot. Climb up on that horse. Start riding the bike again, if you know what I’m saying.” Elsa gave her a theatrical wink, then nudged her with her elbow.  
  
“I _don’t_  need to get laid.”  
  
“Sure you don’t.”  
  
“Also, this guy is _not_  my type.”  
  
“Clearly, since you're obsessing over him. But maybe he’s not an asshat? Try something new!”  
  
Anna huffed. “You’re the worst. Also, I don’t want to just… faff about with some guy. If I _do_  maybe-but-probably-never concede to interact with one again in an… _amourous_  sort of way, I’d want a  _boyfriend_ , not a _friend with benefits_.”  
  
“Anna, you’re a walking contradiction."  
  
“No, I’m not.”  
  
“Okay, _be_ mulish, if you're so intent,” Elsa said. Toast finished and coffee drained, she got up from the table. “Bone or don't bone. Anyway. I have to go to work. Then I’m going out for drinks. So. I probably won’t be home until late." She mussed her little sister's already epic bedhead. "Stay out of trouble?”   
  
“ _Never_.”  
  
“That’s my girl. And if you see this Kris guy again today, _say hi_. It’s _probably_  not going to offend the universe if you do.”  
  
“Yeah, maybe,” Anna replied. But then once Elsa was gone she looked despairingly at her soggy cereal and added, “Or, you know. I could _not_.”


End file.
